


for the girl who had everything

by ifyouresure



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/F, Post Season 2 Finale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-26
Updated: 2017-05-26
Packaged: 2018-11-05 06:09:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11007582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ifyouresure/pseuds/ifyouresure
Summary: A day after Lillian Luthor takes credit for saving the planet, the Tribune publishes an article that names Lena Luthor as Earth's saviour.





	for the girl who had everything

A day after Lillian Luthor takes credit for saving the planet, the Tribune publishes an article that names Lena Luthor as Earth’s saviour.

An anonymous source lets slip to the press that it was really L-Corp that dispersed the lead that drove away the invaders – the DEO agrees that keeping that particular secret isn’t worth all the support and good press Cadmus would receive if the truth didn’t get out.

Kara pens the article, and conducts the interview with Lena. With the destruction of National City only barely avoided and everyone wanting to know exactly what happened, it ends up being the most desirable exclusive since Cat nabbed that interview with Supergirl all those years ago, when people didn’t even know who Supergirl was. When Lena Luthor was just a footnote in the stories about her brother Lex.

Cat is back—and wow, Kara will _never_ get tired of saying that, Cat is _back_ —and she probably wants to break the story herself, but with that little smile she gets on her face sometimes, and a brisk “chop, chop”, she sends Kara on her way. Kara would like to believe it’s because Cat thinks Kara is really coming into her own—to be fair, she _is_ , and Cat _does_ think that—but Kara is certain it’s actually because she’s the only one who’s been able to get Lena to agree to an interview.

In the morning, Kara had called the number she has for Lena’s office three times, and each time the line had been busy – publications clamouring for a quote, probably. Only when Jess had texted her with a _Just call her personal number_ , had Kara finally given in and called Lena’s cellphone.

Lena picked up on the first ring. Her voice had been so soft, and kind, and it had been so much, too much, _not enough_. Kara still shivers, when she thinks about it, still gets that racing warmth up her spine, like curling up under a blanket at home after a long day away.

That’s how Kara feels now, with the article published, alone in her empty apartment after being shoo’d away from work, with nothing but the thought of what happened two days ago and the memory of her name in Lena’s voice for company.

J’onn warns Kara and Cat himself that the DEO is not to be mentioned in the paper, and Winn returns to L-Corp to tell Lena the same. Even still, when Kara asks Lena what everyone’s been wondering – how she did it, how she saved the world, Lena puts on a humble smile—she’s always so humble—and says in that tone that’s just a little self-deprecating: “I had a lot of help.

“You wouldn’t believe how many people are out there every day, trying to protect this city,” she tells Kara, all the while staring straight at her, leaning forward, her head tilted just so. “People who jump into the path of danger and face it head on, just so the rest of us can feel safe.” Lena, Kara notes, does not include herself in that group of people. “The citizens of National City also deserve praise for their enduring courage and strength. And of course,” she says, lightly now, but serious, “the Cat Grants out there who inspire the rest of us to be hopeful.”

Last Thanksgiving, Lena had saved the aliens in National City when she rendered the Medusa virus that was spread across the city inert; this time, with a weapon in her hands that could exile her brother’s greatest rival, that would drive Supergirl away, she chose to do what was best for the Earth instead. Kara thinks that’s sort of poetic, in a way she can’t really put into words; not in this article, at least.

Off the record, as if she knows what Kara’s thinking, Lena says, “My mother synthesized a virus that would have gone on to kill most of the aliens in the world. My brother created a weapon that would have rid it of the rest. Sometimes,” she confesses, “I worry I’m not so different.”

“You saved us,” Kara counters, before clearing the ache from her throat. “You saved all of us.” Lena had smiled oddly at that, and said nothing.

Fleetingly, Kara wondered, in spite of what Lillian had said, whether Lena knew. Whether, when she’d given Supergirl the remote that might decide the fate of the planet, she’d also given Kara the ability to choose her own personal happiness.

(“ _Did you know he was dating Kara Danvers?_ ”)

If Lena _had_ known ... Kara didn’t know what to think of that. So she didn’t.

At the end of the interview, when Kara is just Kara, when she’s just Lena’s best friend, when Kara loves Lena—and she loves Lena, always—Kara tells her how sincerely proud of her she is, how she thinks Lena is absolutely incredible, how Lena is so unfailingly _good_.

Lena smiles again, and says, quietly, “Thank you, Kara.”

When the elevator to bring Kara back down to the lobby arrives on Lena’s floor with a ding, and only after the doors have shut behind her, she hears Lena whisper to herself, so softly that even Kara has to wonder whether she’s imagining it: “I’m selfish. I am so, so selfish.”

Along with the interview, Kara includes a little addendum wherein Supergirl enthusiastically praises Lena, just as Lena had been so eager to praise everyone but herself.

Lena is on the cover of CatCo magazine the very next day. The issue sells faster than any issue ever printed before it, second only to Supergirl’s debut.

There’s something poetic about that, too.

-

It’s funny, how the city only ever seems to sleep when Kara wishes it were awake.

National City is calm in the aftermath of the attempted alien invasion – it’s like somebody actually slipped law-abiding serum into the city’s water reservoir this time. That, or there’s just something about catastrophe and suffering that brings out the best in people. After Myriad, there had been a period of calm, too, one that had lasted for weeks and weeks, up until the celebration at Kara’s apartment, when the pod—

Kara is at a standstill. It’s like time has stopped, and nothing she does will ever make it move again.

L-Corp and CatCo band together to organize the downtown restoration effort. Between the popularity of Lena’s interview, Supergirl’s fight with Rhea, and Cat’s speech, the three of them manage to attract half the city to help. It’s something, at least, something that sits warm and alive in Kara's chest, when she arrives in her supersuit and watches the citizens of National City work together to rebuild it, humans and aliens alike, working side by side.

They carry on until the sun is purple and bruised in the sky. Cat does what she does best, directs people when they’re lost, tells them what to do when they aren’t sure. Kara gathers the other aliens with super strength to do the heavy lifting, brings people together like she does metal with her heat vision.

And Lena – Lena keeps everything in order, provides support whenever it’s needed, does absolutely everything within her power to help.

Kara doesn’t think Lena has ever done anything for herself, not once. Not when she betrayed her mother, or, _Rao_ , when she pressed that key and sacrificed Jack to save Supergirl.

From a few yards away, Lena catches Kara’s eye as she’s talking to a group of volunteers. She smiles prettily, and Kara stares and stares, until she’s not sure if the sympathy she finds in Lena's face is real or not. Kara can’t imagine what Lena could possibly mean when she calls herself selfish.

When the sun sets and everyone turns in for the day, after Kara watches Lena shake hands with as many people as she can, a car drives Lena back to her office. That’s where Kara finds her later, when she lands on her balcony: Lena at her desk, bent over her laptop with a mountain of paperwork. She gets up to let Kara in when she knocks.

“Isn’t the work ever done?” Kara teases after stepping inside.

“For a Luthor?” Lena grins, and she pauses just long enough for Kara to wonder. “I’m afraid not.” She sits back down at her desk and shuffles her papers. “There’s still so much to do, and National City won’t rebuild itself, Supergirl.”

“Not if you don’t rest, it won’t,” Kara replies gently. “You must be exhausted, Lena. You should get some sleep.”

Lena smiles, distracted. “I should,” she says, even as she scrolls through a document on her laptop. They don’t say anything for a while, and a companionable silence settles over them.

“Thank you, by the way,” Lena says after some time, holding up the latest issue of CatCo magazine, “you flatter me.” Kara tenses up, not at all expecting those words while wearing her supersuit. She only relaxes a little when she remembers the quotes.

“Of course,” Kara replies. “I was just telling the truth.”

“You were very generous. At any rate, I think this will go a long way toward regaining the city’s trust after I brought about the invasion,” Lena says dryly.

“None of that was your fault,” Kara interjects quickly. “Everything you’ve done has been to help others.”

“And yet, I always seem to be doing such a poor job of it,” Lena says, only half-joking.

“Don’t say that,” Kara insists. “All we can do is our best, and I know you’re doing everything you can. You’re a hero, Lena.”

Lena looks unconvinced, but she purses her lips uncertainly and nods, looking back down at the work on her desk.

“Can I ask you something?” Kara asks, after the rigid shape of Lena’s body has softened.

“Yes,” Lena answers.

“Why did you give me the remote?”

It’s about as close to asking Lena what she meant without asking her outright, and Lena seems to realize that – that Supergirl had somehow heard what Lena said to herself after Kara Danvers left her office. That, if she liked, she could take the out Kara’s given her. That this is about as close to a confession as she’ll get from Kara. For now, at least.

“Besides the very real possibility that my murdeous mother would jump the gun?” Lena jokes weakly. Kara doesn't say anything, and Lena stares for a moment, silent, before nodding slowly, like she had expected nothing less. Her watch clicks against the surface of her desk.

“You know,” Lena whispers quietly, as if the room would shatter if she spoke any louder, “I still think about that night last year. When you begged me not to turn the key my mother gave me. When the fate of the city rested in the palm of my hand.” She closes her eyes. “When you told me to be my own hero.”

Kara nods even though Lena can’t see, listening intently. Lena eases her laptop shut, and when she opens her eyes again, they’re almost black in the absence of light.

“Then, there was Jack, and you were dying, and you—you both kept calling my name.” Lena stands, stepping out from behind her desk and walking over to her bar so that Kara can only see her profile. She braces her hands against it, hunched over. Lena laughs bitterly. “And then, god, the remote.

“I never asked for any of this,” she says. “I never asked for all these choices and all this power. I’ve had the whole world in my hands more times than I can remember, and I don’t understand why.” The wood under her hands groans under her weight. Kara wishes, briefly, that she’d turn around. “Every time I try to do the right thing, it’s never enough. It’s like I’m being tested over and over again, and nothing I say or do will ever prove that I can be trusted. I’m so _tired_ , Kara.”

Kara startles at the use of her name, then shudders as that familiar warmth prickles up her back. “Lena—” she begins, without really knowing what she’s going to say.

“And they’re right,” Lena goes on quietly, so that Kara almost doesn’t hear. She stops speaking immediately. “I _can’t_ be trusted. Because it’s so _tempting_ , each and every time, to make the choice that would bring me happiness, to do the _selfish_ thing.” Lena grips the ends of the bar tightly, her frown heavy on her face, her shoulder blades protruding sharply from under her blouse; she's still wearing the dirt-stained one she had on earlier. “To do what my mother wants so that she’ll finally love me,” she says, breathing harshly, “to let you die so that Jack and I could be together.” She turns away, so that Kara can only see the back of her head, her hair sweeping softly across her shoulders; even now, as sad and angry and despondent as Lena is—as sad and angry as _Kara_ is—Kara can’t help thinking of how lovely that motion is, can’t help remembering the last time they’d hugged, hyperaware of her arm around Lena’s neck, Lena’s hair brushing against it.

Kara doesn’t know what to say; she can only think of how determined she had been, when she was fighting Superman, how determined she was to live, how tightly she’d held Alex in her arms when she flew the three of them to the Fortress of Solitude.

How Kara has not once in her life protected Kal-El the way her mother had wanted her to.

“And, worst of all, the remote,” Lena says again, her shoulders scrunched up around her ears.

“You wanted to kill us?” Kara guesses, voice kind and not at all accusatory. “Me and Superman?”

Lena laughs, loud and sudden. “No,” she says. “No. What I wanted ...” She doesn’t move or speak for a minute.

“I couldn't have that temptation in my hands again,” she says instead. “To click that button when there was another option. To click it too soon because I ... because if he was gone, then maybe I ...”

Without a single word of warning, Lena swipes her hand roughly across her bar. A decanter of scotch and several glasses fall in an earsplitting cascade of crashes against the floor, and Kara would jump, if she wasn’t frozen on her feet, as if, one by one, Lena’s words had pinned her to the spot.

Golden liquor splatters around the room, against the walls and Lena's desk and even Kara’s boots. A million shards of glass skitter in every direction; a few jump back at Lena and scrape her legs, but she pays them no mind.

“Because when we touched,” she says finally, facing Kara again, and all of Lena is resigned – the droop in her shoulders, the tone of her voice, the sad little curl of her lips, “when we hugged, it was like the world was in my hands again, and the temptation was too much, and I could have it all, I could have it all, _I could have it all_.”

Kara swallows hard. She remembers the sparring session with Clark, before the fight. For a brief, shining moment, she’d had everything she ever wanted—family, friends, a job she enjoyed, people she loved—and she had been so afraid of losing it all.

Lena had already lost it all.

Blood trickles slowly from the cuts on Lena’s shins, and she looks at Kara, smiling ruefully. “I wouldn’t be able to bear the praise, if people knew. If I had clicked that button to save the Earth when, all the while, I would know I was also doing it for myself. So, I was selfish. I gave you the remote, so that I wouldn’t have to make that choice, so that I wouldn’t have to bear that burden. So that, when the time came,” Lena says, taking an unsteady breath, “you could bear it instead.”

An eternity passes before either of them moves again and, even then, it’s only Lena, who walks carefully back to the balcony door and leaves it ajar, glass tinkling beneath her feet on her way over. Then, she gathers her things at her desk, folds her jacket carefully over her arm, and slings her purse on. Lena passes Kara on her way out, and only when she’s halfway out the door to her office does she speak again.

“So, forgive me,” Lena says, her voice smooth and calm – beautiful, even, “if I don’t want to be called a hero.”

-

Kara doesn’t call Lena for five days. Lena doesn’t call at all.

Weeks and weeks pass, and Kara goes through the motions. She goes to work during the day, writes little puff-pieces about the new dog shelter on Parada, because National City is still in nearly crime-free stasis. At lunch, Kara walks past Cat’s glass office to eat on the sunlit terrace, and Cat throws her this look, this pinched grimace; it’s only a matter of time before she calls Kara into her office and asks her why she looks like someone ran over her four cats.

In the summer, the sun sets at about eight in the evening. Kara sits in her window to watch it every day. Five minutes after the sky goes dark, Kara texts Lena. She tells her about her day, tells her something funny Winn did at the DEO, relays one of Cat’s more impressive insults. Then, she asks Lena about her day, how she's doing, how work on the transmat portal is going, because Kara hasn’t allowed herself to go see Lena, not when Lena so obviously doesn’t want to see her. She wishes Lena well, and doesn’t say anything else after that because, even though it's late in the evening, Lena is probably still at her office, working.

At the end of the day, Kara goes to sleep. The sun rises at about six in the morning, and Kara lies in bed to watch the sky light up, and she repeats her routine all over again.

Every night, the sun sets a little earlier than it had the day before, and rises later the next. Some days, Winn is off in his own little world, grinning at a text from Lyra on his phone; on the days Carter visits the office, Cat’s words soften. Some days, all Kara says is good night.

Lena never texts back. It’s the single thing that never shifts in Kara’s life, the constant point around which everything else revolves.

“Kiera!”

“Yes, Ms. Grant?”

“Why does your face,” Cat says without looking up, her hand twirling in a vague circle, “look as if someone ran over your cats?”

Kara sighs. “I don’t have cats, Ms. Grant.” Cat waves her hand dismissively. “It’s, uhm, I’m just ...”

“Surely you aren’t still _moping_ about your boyfriend. From what I’ve heard, he’s not even worth your time.” Kara doesn’t say anything, and Cat looks up. “Well?” she says, gentler now.

“It’s ...” Kara doesn’t know what to say. She doesn’t know how to explain to Cat how, the more Kara misses Lena, the less she seems to miss Mon-El. Like Lena’s absence has gradually replaced his. Like the hole he left in her heart has morphed and changed, and there's only one thing that can fill it now.

And she misses Mon-El, she does, but she also doesn’t think he’s ever cared so much, felt as bad about something he did as Lena does. And Lena didn’t—Lena hasn’t _done_ anything. She literally gave Kara the remote so that she _couldn’t_ do anything. And if that’s Lena’s version of selfish, well, Kara has to wonder who raised her to think like that.

Then again, she really doesn’t.

But Lena doesn’t answer Kara’s calls, and Lena doesn’t reply to her texts, and Lena is just _gone_ , where, before, she was _everywhere_ , and Kara doesn’t think she was taking Lena for granted before—she’s not sure she will ever take anything for granted, not when it can all be gone in a second—but it’s different, now that Kara doesn’t have her.

The truth is, Kara has never had a friend quite like Lena before, either. Family, sure – in fact, Alex and Lena are startlingly similar in so many ways: so unwilling to see the best in themselves, never doing anything in their own self-interest, and always, always thinking of others, and thinking of Kara. But friends?

Kara has never had friends like Lena.

Cat has that look on her face now, the one that’s half concerned that Kara has been standing in her office and hasn’t said a word for an entire minute, and half irritated that Kara is still in her office and hasn’t said a word for an entire minute. Kara almost tells her that it’s nothing like that, but that would feel a little like a lie.

“It’s nothing,” Kara hastens to say instead, and that’s a lie, too, because this is _everything_. Cat raises one eyebrow. “It’s ... it’s nothing.”

“Well, fix this ... ‘ _nothing_ ’ of yours. I don’t pay you to make sad puppy faces and to stand still. Move along.”

And, Rao, that’s ... Cat is spot on, as usual.

-

The problem is, Kara doesn’t know where _to_ go from here.

She’s standing at the centre of the world, with everything just beyond her reach, and it’s all spinning around her.

(Standing on the pile of her unanswered texts, maybe.)

Kara doesn’t know what she’s allowed, doesn’t know because she hasn’t felt this out of her depth before, not for a long time now. Even her daily messages feel like this gross intrusion, like Lena would ask if she wanted to know about Kara’s day. Like Kara wouldn’t have to read L-Corp’s press releases, because Lena would want to tell her about all of it in person over brunch.

“Just go talk to her,” Alex says.

Kara groans. “I _can’t_.” She grabs two drinks from her fridge and places one in front of Alex before sitting down.

“Why not? You’re great at talking yourself out of stuff.”

“This isn’t just some problem I can _talk myself out of_. This is ...” Kara makes a frustrated noise, “this is my _life_ , this is _important_.”

Alex nods slowly. Her nails catch against the label on her drink. “You know,” she says carefully, “before Maggie and I started dating, we had a lot of problems, too. We weren’t sure about what we wanted, and that led to a ton of misunderstandings, and, for this huge chunk of time, I felt like I’d never get anywhere. But then, on Thanksgiving, Maggie got shot, and she came over and she told me what she was thinking, and now we’re _here_.” Alex smiles brilliantly. “And we’re getting married. Not tomorrow, and maybe not even ten years from now. But I _know_ that she’s the one for me, and I told her that. I told her that I was in it for the long run, and I told her what I wanted.”

“But we aren’t like—” Kara’s mouth clamps shut, her words sticking in her throat like they had talking to Cat. Alex leans forward to grab Kara’s hands, and Kara wants so desperately to squeeze back as hard as she can.

“Miscommunication is killer, Kara,” Alex tells her earnestly. “Do you know what you want?”

“I ...” Kara thinks suddenly of Mon-El, and her first thought is of how she may never see her mother’s necklace again. Then, she thinks of Lena, and wonders if she also feels as if her happiness is hinging on this one thing.

But then, she must. That’s what she told Kara the last time they saw each other. It’s Kara who hasn’t been saying anything this entire time.

“Yeah,” Kara says. “Yeah, I think I do.”

Alex nods again. “Do you think Lena wants the same thing?”

“Yes,” Kara answers, and her certainty sits sweet and lovely in her chest, “I think so.”

“Does she know?” Kara shakes her head. “Maybe you should tell her,” Alex says gently.

-

Kara calls Lena only once. Lena does not answer.

“ _Lena’s phone. Please leave a message after the tone_.”

She leaves her message. Life goes on.

There's this new clarity with which Kara views and understands everything. Kara still watches the sun set, but now she texts Lena in the afternoon. She still watches the sun rise, but she flies up onto the roof of her building to do it, because she likes to let the warmth envelop her, thrives in the feeling of the entire city coming alive around her. Kara tells Lena about her day, about her herb garden, about how Lena would like how the basil has sprouted today, how the undersides of the sage in her garden are precisely the colour of Lena’s eyes.

Once, in a press release, L-Corp announces that they’re exploring new uses for the transmat portal, and the possibilities of interstellar travel. Kara suggests in a text that it could be used to help aliens seeking refuge on Earth. In her next public appearance, Lena hints at a new project L-Corp is working on in collaboration with President Marsdin herself, and says, “The inspiration for this project came from a very close friend of mine. I hope to share it with you soon.”

So, Kara doesn’t stop texting. The world spins a little slower around her.

Every few days, Kara has movie night with Alex; three or four times a month, she hosts game night with her friends. The crime rate starts to ramp up again in the city, which isn't _good_ , but Supergirl and Guardian are always there to save the day, and Snapper starts giving her more interesting stories.

Family, friends, job.

Unbidden, Kara thinks again of the events of last year, of Myriad; remembers how time had stopped, as it has now. She remembers how the pod landed in National City. How, only two days later, Kara met Lena Luthor. How time had started again.

At the end of the summer, someone knocks on Kara’s apartment door, just once. It’s eleven; Kara has already texted Lena good morning. She goes to answer the door.

Lena stands on the other side. She smiles awkwardly, holds up her phone, and says, “Good morning, Kara.”

Kara shivers, just a little, warm and familiar, and she moves.

**Author's Note:**

> I only write fast when I'm actively avoiding my other stories.
> 
> ifyouresure on Tumblr as well!


End file.
